It's Cute
by Michelle-And-The-Beatle
Summary: John's just being a cute blushy mess when Sherlock finds out he's ticklish. Could be Johnlock. Please Enjoy!


Footsteps creaked up the stairs of 221B. John Watson was lounging on his signature chair reading the local Times in the flat as Sherlock Holmes stepped into the room, curly hair bouncing as he took long strides to drop his coat and scarf off on the couch. No words of greeting were exchanged between the two men. The consulting detective then moved into the kitchen, which would be more properly named his laboratory. Everything was silent still, only the occasional chink from Sherlock moving beakers around, and then the squeak of his stool moving across the tiled floor.

"John!"

The ex-soldier jumped in his seat and lowered his newspaper, sighing, "What is it, Sherlock?"

Sherlock walked into the sitting room, eyes stone cold and staring at John intently, "Alright, very funny. Where is it?"

John looked perplexed, "Where is what?"

"Don't give me that. You know I can't play along with things like this… _humor,_" he made a face, "Put it back."

"Put what back, Sherlock?" John asked, a bit more impatiently. He honestly did not know what his friend was talking about. Sherlock studied John's features in silence a bit more, deliberating in his mind and he sighed and gave it up, "The sample in the mortar, John. The liver. Where is that?"

John had to take a moment to think. Then it dawned on him and he paled, "T-The gooey pink stuff?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "If you'd prefer to call it that…"

John cleared his throat, "Well, um…. t-the smell was quite awful and it looked c-completely unappetizing… in addition, you were absent so I couldn't consult you and it m-may have…" John stood up slowly from out of his seat, ready to bolt if things got out of hand and he said in a feeble whisper, "… b-been thrown out?"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed at John and he approached him with fingers laced behind his back. John swiveled around the chair to back up towards the door.

"And you think this will go without punishment?" Sherlock said, his gaze fixed on his retreating companion.

John whimpered, "Sherlock, come on, it was one stinking piece of meat, for Christ's sake!"

Sherlock's eyebrows rose almost comically and his lips quirked into a smirk, "Oh, just a stinking piece of meat, hm? We'll see about that…" and he approached John yet again, long and lanky arms outstretched this time. John let out a squeak and he backed up all around the flat.

"W-What do you plan on doing, S-Sherlock?" he stuttered.

The taller one shrugged, "Dunno yet. Something that makes me feel better about the specimen I lost," he reached out in an attempt to grab John but only managed to brush fingers across his side. Sherlock froze when John squeaked and flinched away from the touch. He rose a brow, "What was that?"

"W-What was what?"

Sherlock gave John another look and he repeated the action, making the ex-soldier recoil again, gasping, "St-stoppit!"

Now it dawned on the sociopath and he grinned, "John, you wouldn't happen to be ticklish, would you? Just a thought…"

"Sod off…" the smaller man grumbled, fixing his shirt. Sherlock let out a low chuckle and he lunged for the man, pinning him quite easily. Then his fingers started to poke and prod around the man's sides and ribs.

Even through layers of dress shirt and knitted sweater, John started squeaking and giggling, a blush rising to his cheeks as he squirmed under his friend. He swatted at Sherlock's hands at every opportunity, "S-Sherlohock! Stoppi_hihit_!"

This was quite possibly the best discovery Sherlock Holmes had ever made and he was loving every second of it, "Why should I stop it, John? Punishment, remember? Retribution."

"P-Plehehease! I c-cahan't!" his blush grew deeper. Sherlock stopped momentarily, looking down at John and watching him catch his breath.

"This will resume momentarily. State the reason you can't," Sherlock was still smirking at how flushed and giggly John was.

"I-I absolutely hahate being tickled. It's emasculating a-and it's just… silly!" John admitted, looking up at Sherlock. His cheeks were clearly flushed. Sherlock chortled and shook his head.

"I-It really isn't, John. It's actually—" he stopped himself.

John rose a brow, "Actually what? Humiliating? You found a better word for embarrassing, I'm guessing, right?"

"Cute," Sherlock said curtly, clearing his throat after. John's eyes widened. He knew he heard Sherlock right and Sherlock was aware of what he said. Sherlock avoided John's gaze and the smaller man couldn't keep his eyes off of Sherlock's face.

He was ready to speak out again but was preoccupied with the feeling of fingers wiggling into the spaces of his ribs. That grin was upon Sherlock's face again in an instant. John gasped and laughed, "Nohohohoho, dohohon't! Sheherlohock, I swehehear!"

Sherlock's numble digits danced around John's belly next, clawing at the fabric of his sweater. John squeaked and kept up his laughing. Sherlock then slipped his hand under John's shirts and his fingers wiggled against bare belly. John gasped sharply from his friend's fingers being cold, but also from the initial contact. He laughed louder after snorting.

Sherlock grinned, "This seems to be working best so far. What do you say, John?"

"Blohohohow mehehehe, Sheheherlock!" John would've snapped if he wasn't laughing so hard. Sherlock chuckled lowly at that and his hands latched onto each set of John's now bared ribs. John shrieked and arched his back at the kneading, "STOHOhohohohop!" The detective crawled fingers upward in the hopes of finding more sensitive spots. He smirked when John squealed again when he reached the indent of his underarm. He lingered there, digging in sharply at one point and eliciting a curse word to shoot from the veteran's mouth.

After a few more successful pokes and prods, Sherlock finished his experimenting on his new specimen, "You've quite made up for the loss of my liver, John. I implore you to think twice before touching my things again," he grinned. John panted on the carpet, "Bloohoody idiot…"

Sherlock smiled and stood up, walking back to the kitchen, "Cute," he repeated, earning the flushing of John's cheeks again and a soft groan to come from the smaller man.

~The End~ 


End file.
